Redhawk Caldera I'll drown the urge for permanence and certainty

When a stranger's call came, Whip found the spell of his nostalgia broken. It was not for him, for though he was born here -- Whip was little more than a stranger. For a moment, he thought to disregard it and let some other wolf answer, one perhaps that could provide what this unfamiliar voice sought. A sharp inhale followed as a strange curiosity tugged at the back of his mind. 

Fine, he thought.

He trudged begrudgingly through snow back to the borders. The stranger he found was no more than a youth; some thin fledgling bird. Whip made a cautious approach, always wary, with head canted curiously. He chuffed once at a fair distance away and stopped.